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I don’t know what to do with my Sundays now that my mother is gone. Last weekend when I drove out to visit my sister, I took a different route to get to her place — instead of the long way down West Carson through McKees Rocks and over a long twisting road that I don’t even know the name, I took 65 and over the McKees Rocks bridge. I liked taking the long way so I could listen to music, or pull over the car so I could take photos. But now it’s as if I just want to hurry to my destination. The drive, the music, the long winding road – it was all part of the ritual that led up to the visits with my mother. Last Sunday was super windy and cold, like the tail end of a winter that just won’t quit. I think: turn of season, a change of scenery, a light up ahead.